


stay with me (you're all i need)

by liionne



Series: Oh darlin', I need you [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mild Smut, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 20:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2480813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liionne/pseuds/liionne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They don't talk about it. Like, at all. Steve actually avoids him, which hurts Bucky right down to his core. When he wakes up in the morning there's a note on the table saying Steve's gone for a walk, or they're out of milk so he's gone to the store, he's just going to sketch the bay in the morning- whatever. There's an excuse every morning, and he's never back by the time Bucky has to leave the docks. Yeah, it stings. But Bucky's never big or brave enough to talk about it, so on a night time he comes in, washes, dresses, and goes back out to have it on with some beta in a pretty frock. He tells himself it's just as good, but it's not.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Bucky helps Steve through a heat, and it only gets angty from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stay with me (you're all i need)

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any spelling mistakes!

Bucky pushes Steve up onto the table, and the younger gives an almighty huff of a sigh. Once again Bucky had found him getting the shit beat out of him in alleyway, his nose bloody, his knuckles bruised, a black eye already blossoming and ruining his almost startlingly plain features. He had knocked the alpha out in one swift move, and then dragged Steve home by his earlobe — because it was the only part of him not injured. He would have taken his hand if he could be sure it isn't broken.

"You're an idiot, Rogers." He hisses, and Steve rolls his eyes.

"You say that every time."

"It never stops being true."

"Yeah, well—"

"Shut it." Bucky snaps, and Steve shuts his mouth so hard that his teeth clack and his jaw aches. Bucky had used his alpha voice; he never usually does, not if he can help it, and of course whenever Bucky goes all alpha on him, little Omega Rogers is going to do whatever it is he tells him to.

Steve hates it, but it's just nature.

Bucky works in silence, mopping the blood from Steve's face, washing out each cut and bruise. He looks down at Steve's hands in his own. He's got long fingers, good for the art he spends so much of his time on; slim, pretty hands. They're mottled black and blue now, and Bucky shakes his head.

"How come he was fighting you?" He asks, frown pulling his lips down, drawing his eyebrows in. "What's an alpha doing fighting an omega?"

"I was wearing your jacket." Steve explains, looking away. He doesn't take his hands from Bucky's, though. "Probably smelled like you."

"Like an alpha." Bucky corrects.

Steve shrug slim shoulders. "Same difference."

Bucky hates that, and Steve knows it. Bucky hates it when Steve just refers to him as an alpha, when he doesn't refer to him as his friend, as someone special. Alphas are brutal. Some of them absolutely adore their omegas, treat them like kings or queens, look after them and protect them just like they should. But there's always the ones who treat their omega like dirt, push them around, treat them like skivvies and work them 'til they drop. They're in the majority, unfortunately. Bucky's not like them. He's not a leader. He's not brutal, and cruel. He's not looking to get ahead. He's not looking to be the best. He's not the strongest, or the fastest—-

And yet sometimes he's all of those things. He just doesn't let Steve see a lot of that.

"Stevie." Bucky murmurs, and Steve feels something inside of him melt. Bucky runs his fingers over the backs of his knuckles. "Stevie, look at me."

Steve does, because he's not being forced to. There's not even a hint of alpha in Bucky's voice. He's treating him as an equal.

And anyway, he could say no to Bucky until the cows came home, until he was blue in the face. But not when he sounds so desperate, and so pleading. Beseeching.

"I'm sorry." Bucky murmurs. He's not sure why he's apologising, but it gets Steve to relax a little.

"I'm sorry too." He murmurs, and that's the end of it.

Their fights never last long. The first fight they ever had, they were six years old. Well, Steve was five, but Bucky was six, and Steve had stomped home saying he was never ever speaking to that Bucky Barnes ever again, not ever, not as long as he lived. A half an hour later and Bucky had come over with a piece of his mom's apple pie, profusely apologising and asking if he could be Steve's friend again. They'd eaten the pie with two forks at Sarah Rogers' kitchen table, and their fights had just gotten shorter from there.

The longest they had went without speaking was four days. But then Steve found himself hammering on Bucky's door at near midnight, begging to let back in because he was sorry, so damn sorry, and he was an idiot and a jerk, and—-

He'd slept beside Bucky's that night, their little fingers touching.

But now they head to the couch, and though they start of sitting at opposite ends, they end up tangled together, as usual. Bucky's arm hangs over Steve's shoulder and Steve leans his head against Bucky, and they listen to the radio until they fall asleep.

~*~

A week later, and Steve's heat hits. Bucky hates it when Steve's in heat. There's nothing he can _do_. The only way to get through it comfortably for Steve would be a lot of very intimate and inappropriate touching, seeing as they're best friends, and though they get closer and closer to that every year, they never actually do anything. Bucky just runs Steve cold baths, careful not to make them too cold, and locks the doors and windows so that no one can get in. There was an alpha, once, who had caught the scent of an unclaimed omega in heat on the street outside and come up to have a look. Bucky had hit him in the face with his boot and told him where to go, and had never left the windows unlocked during another heat again.

Steve lies on his side on the bed, in nothing but his pants and his vest because his temperature always spikes during his heats, and Bucky rings his hands at the end of the bed, sweating almost as much as the young omega. Honest to god, he has no idea how he does it. The smell of him is so strong, so sweet, so alluring, and yet he never touches him. He never crosses that boundary.

"Steve, what should I do?" He asks. "What do you need, Stevie?"

He shifts to sit on the edge of the bed. Steve curls into himself further, but Bucky doesn't stand up again. He notes that Steve switches to breathing through his mouth before he speaks. Bucky copies him, because it's a damn good idea.

"Nothing," He croaks. "I'm fine, Buck."

Two days later, and he's obviously not fine. Bucky calls a doctor; the doctor only confirms every single last worry he has.

He's a nice enough man; a beta, old. Betas are less affected by alphas and omegas, far more neutral; it makes them good for jobs like this, where they have to get up close and personal with a lot of different people. Alphas can be doctors, sure, but sometimes they're a little too competitive, too cold and clinical. Omegas- well, omegas don't really do anything much. Raise kids. Odd jobs, working in grocery stores, working as receptionists, stuff like that. It's not much fun being an omega.

But the doctor they see has been Steve's doctor from birth, and he purses his lips.

"I think it's his heart," He explains to Bucky; Steve's too far gone to hear, to be honest. He whimpers softly in the background and clutches at the sheets, groaning as he shifts. "It's always been weak, but- well, it's about to give out. He had his first heat when he was-" He flicks through his chart, checks it, but Bucky already knows. He's pretty sure he could recall the actual date if it mattered that much. It had just about bowled over his seventeen year old self and he'd had to leave, let his ma take care of him. "-sixteen. That's five years without any sort of intervention into his heats. That'd put strain on a healthy omega, but an unhealthy one like Steve?" The doctor purses his lips, shakes his head. "I suggest you find him an alpha."

Bucky nods gravely. He feels a bit numb. Once he's seen the doctor out and locked the front door again he sits on the bed, beside Steve, and reaches a hand out carefully to touch him. Steve immediately whines, and it resonates low in Bucky's gut. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and continues, "Stevie- you hear what the doctor said?"

"Yeah." Steve grunts. He might be half deaf and in the middle of his worst heat in five years, but apparently he's just as nosy as usual. Bucky thought he'd been too far gone to hear, but he'd been wrong.

Bucky licks his lips, and takes to breathing through his mouth again. "What do you want me to do?" He asks. "Is there anyone- anyone you want me to call, or-?"

Steve takes a shuddering, rattling breath, the kind that sets Bucky on edge, and he forces his eyes open to look at him. "I want _you_."

His voice goes straight to Bucky's dick, his words even more so. He doesn't take a lot of convincing after that. He scrambles to shed the layers between them, and with Steve providing so much natural slick there's no need for the tub of vaseline under the bed. Bucky pushes straight into him, and Steve keens.

It's over fairly quickly the first time. It's not at all how he imagined his first time with Steve to be - because honestly, he's thought about it a lot. He'd have to be dead not to. Steve's so pretty, eyelashes longer than any gal's, eyes brighter than the lights at night, and yeah he's all angles but who says that ain't drop dead gorgeous? Bucky thinks it is. So he'd imagined his first time with Steve to be slow, hot and heavy, sweat slick chests slipping against one another as they moan into each others' ears, hips rocking slowly into one another.

In reality, it's over in about half a minute. Bucky nearly misses, nearly doesn't pull out in time. The last thing he wants is to get Steve pregnant, because then they'd really be up shit creek without a paddle.

But it's alright, because no more than ten minutes later Steve's pawing at him again, pulling Bucky up, away from his side and between his legs, and Bucky is more than happy to oblige. The second time is a little bit better; they both last a little longer, go a little further. The third time is better still. Bucky manages to kiss down Steve's chest, feel his fingers curl in his hair and tug at dark strands. He hears him whine and gasp and then beg to be fucked as Bucky teases him. But there's not a lot of time for teasing.

On the second night of this _fuck, break, eat, fuck_ routine, they fall asleep lying against each other. The sheets desperately need cleaned and changed and they both need a bath, but it can wait until tomorrow. Bath sex might be kind of hot.

But when they wake in the morning, Steve's heat his over. The only scent of it is what's left over, clinging to the sheets and Steve's clothes, which he hasn't worn since the first time Bucky stripped them off.

Bucky knows they need to talk about this. They need to sit down and have a good chat about what the hell just happened, and what it means for them going forward. But instead, Steve goes to run himself a bath and Bucky changes the bed sheets and neither one speaks to the other, going about their own business instead.

It's a pretty damn awkward affair.

~*~

They don't talk about it. Like, at all. Steve actually avoids him, which hurts Bucky right down to his core. When he wakes up in the morning there's a note on the table saying Steve's gone for a walk, or they're out of milk so he's gone to the store, he's just going to sketch the bay in the morning- whatever. There's an excuse every morning, and he's never back by the time Bucky has to leave the docks. Yeah, it stings. But Bucky's never big or brave enough to talk about it, so on a night time he comes in, washes, dresses, and goes back out to have it on with some beta in a pretty frock. He tells himself it's just as good, but it's not.

And one night, he gets drunk. Not too drunk, but drunk enough to tell all of that to a lovely girl named Betty who tilts her head and pushes her lower lips out. Bucky hadn't realised until right that very second, but she's small and blond and has big, blue eyes and shit. He's in deep.

"We should go somewhere," She says, head tilting. Her curls fall over her shoulder, drawing his attention, and he looks down not-so-subtly at her breasts. Yeah, well. He's too intoxicated to be charming, and Betty doesn't seem to mind one bit. In fact, she seems to be loving it. "Somewhere a little more private?"

So Bucky takes her back to his place.

Y'know.

The place he shares with Steve.

He's fingered her and made her blush and he's thrusting into her when he misses the front door open, misses the sound of Steve's voice, and then misses his footsteps on the creaky floorboards outside as he heads towards the bedroom.

"Bucky, I- I know it's been a while, but I-"

Steve pushes open the door and it's _then_ that Bucky realises he's there. Betty shrieks beneath him, grabs at the sheets with perfectly polished fingernails and Bucky's swears as he fumbles to pull something around himself, to cover himself. He finds Betty's dress, which is a tiny bit awkward, and he watches as Steve's eyes widen and he gives a soft squeak.

"I'll go." He says, the words tumbling out of his mouth as he backs away, shutting he door and scurrying. Bucky hears the front door open, and close, and he swears again.

There's nothing but heavy breathing for a second. And then Betty reaches out for her dress, her cheeks on fire as she does. "I'll be going too, then."

She leaves, and Bucky doesn't protest.

Steve was going to talk to him. He was going to talk to him about what had happened two weeks ago, the longest two weeks of Bucky's life, and he'd been balls deep in some beta he probably wasn't going to remember in the morning. Which means Bucky's not only a horrible person who is using his own misery as a tool to make other people miserable and make himself into even more of a horrible person, but he's also a fucking idiot.

He dresses, and storms out after Steve.

The night just goes from bad to worse.

~*~

Bucky can only think of a few places where Steve would go, and thankfully for Bucky's nerves, is in the first place Bucky looks. He's in the bar, _their_ bar, and he's sat in a booth in the corner with an alpha who absolutely _reeks_ of pheromones, of testosterone, putting his scent out to put others off. Steve has to know that. He's not an idiot, he'll be able to catch that scent. But then Bucky sees the way his eyelashes sweep across his cheeks as he looks down and he tilts his head- he's playing at being demure. As if Steve Rogers is ever demure. Bucky feels something like anger bubble up in his gut, and he surges forward, a low growl in his throat.

"Steve, get your coat, we're going."

It's not his alpha voice; not even close. It's just Bucky being bossy. Steve looks up at him defiantly.

"You never said you had an alpha," The other guy says. His tone tells Bucky that it's a joke; that he's being made fun of. He growls.

"I don't." Steve says. "Go home, Buck."

"Not without you." Bucky says. He sets his jaw, and in return, Steve sets his. They stare at each other.

"Maybe you should get going, bub." The alpha says, and Bucky spares him a glare. He continues regardless. "Obviously he's not interested in you. And you don't have any kind of claim over him, so-"

"Steve. Coat. _Now_."

This time it's all alpha, his voice nothing but a growl, and there's bile in the back of Bucky's throat, acid in his mouth. He hates himself a little bit more with every passing second. He sees Steve hesitate, his face lose color. He reaches for his jacket, and then he draws his hands back into his lap, linking them together, and he takes a deep breath. Steve Rogers has always been stubborn. But Bucky can't quite believe he's being _this_ stubborn. Can't he see that Bucky's upset? Can't he see that he's just doing this because he wants him safe, he wants him home, and he wants to talk. He wants his best friend back.

No. He probably can't, come to think of it.

"Fine." Bucky spits. He takes a step back. "Fine. Don't bother coming home, then. I'm not gonna be there."

He doesn't know why he said that, exactly. Probably because he's angry, and he can't think of anything to say, can't force the words from between his lips. But he means it, he's not going to be at home. Not tonight, anyway. He leaves the bar and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand as he goes.

He doesn't even make it halfway down the street.

"Bucky!"

He doesn't stop walking, absolutely content to just keep on going, but he slows. Lets Steve catch up with him. He can't stop himself.

"Bucky, wait, I'm sorry. You- You're allowed to, y'know-" Steve swallows thickly as he finally catches up to Bucky. He's panting. Hard. "You're allowed- friends over- or- or girls- 'cause we're not- not like- a-"

He's wheezing so damn hard and Bucky had resolved not to look at him but now he turns, grips his tiny shoulders and grounds him. Steve splutters and coughs, chest heaving as he tries to take a breath, and Bucky feels an odd sense of calm wash over him. This, he can do. Sort out whatever he has going on with Steve? He's out of his depth. But an asthma attack is something he can do, something he can sort out.

"Easy, Stevie, easy."

He heards him back against the wall of the apartment building. He makes sure Steve's back is against it before he pushes him down so that he's sitting, his back straight. Sarah Rogers taught him this a hell of a long time ago. Bucky takes a deep breath in through his nose, trying to meet Steve's gaze, and then he breaths out through his mouth. He does it again and again until Steve stops coughing and wheezing and panicking, and copies him. It takes a while, but then Steve begins to breathe easily again, Bucky's hands on his shoulders, their gazes locked.

"There," Bucky murmurs. He doesn't smile. "Now let's get home."

Steve just nods, leaning in against Bucky's side as they walk. Bucky keeps an arm around his shoulders, but he doesn't attempt to make conversation. He just looks dead ahead until they get back to their apartment, their home, and get inside.

~*~

He makes Steve coffee, because coffee helps. Even though the asthma attack is over, he wants to be sure he's okay.

"I meant what I said," Steve says, after a minutes silence. "It's okay if you want to bring dames over. We're not- I mean I know you- _helped_ me out -but we're not, you didn't-" Steve sighs. Obviously he's not getting his point across, and though Bucky understands, he doesn't interrupt. "You didn't claim me. So it's fine. I'm not bothered."

"I am." Bucky murmurs. "I really am."

Steve's eyebrows draw in, and he frowns. Bucky thinks about kissing his lips back up into a smile, but he doesn't. Not yet, anyway. He shifts to look at Steve, scoots a little closer on the couch. He sets cross-legged, and Steve copies him, their knees touching. "I don't want to bring dames back here. I don't want to take dames anywhere."

"What're you getting at, Buck?" Steve asks. He sounds more insecure than Bucky's ever heard him.

"I want _you_." Bucky says, and he sounds almost defiant. "Alright? I got closer and closer every time, every heat, and I- I knew I had to help, 'cause Doc said so, but I- I do. I want you."

Steve looks at him for a moment with absolutely no expression. Bucky's stomach drops a little.

"I want you too, Buck." Steve murmurs. "I kind of always have."

Bucky waits ten seconds before breaking into a face-splitting grin. Steve launches across the gap that separates them, his coffee hurtling to the ground and soaking into the rug. He kisses him, and Bucky hums against his lips, moans softly; he tastes sweet, he tastes like coffee, and he tastes like _Steve_ , a taste Bucky has never had before, not ever, not before that heat.

It doesn't take them long to get back to that, in actual fact.

There's a lot of jostling, clothes being ripped off and dropped to the floor. Steve finds himself in Bucky's lap, pawing at his chest, pressing kisses along the line of his neck. In an awkward move, careful not to fall off the sofa, Bucky flips them so that he can get Steve out of his pants. There's a lot more fumbling, a lot more touching, skin on skin and mouth on mouth, moans filling the room.

Bucky thrusts up, pushing into him, having hastily worked him open with three fingers. When he's buried inside of him, Bucky pauses, and pointedly ignores Steve's desperate whines.

"How much do you want me?" He asks against Steve's neck.

Reminiscent of before, Bucky asks, "What're you getting at, Barnes?"

Bucky chuckles, and he finds Steve's pulse point in his neck. "I'm asking-" Suddenly he loses confidence just a little. He keeps going, though. "I'm _asking_ if you want me to claim you?"

Steve's hands roam up Bucky's bare sides, and into his hair, pulling him back until he can meet his gaze. His cheeks are bright pink, and he grins.

"Yeah." He murmurs. "Yeah, Buck. I want you to claim me."

So he does. He marks him over his pulse, the outline of his bite that's not going to fade, and claims in a way that's totally different. When it's over, Steve clings to him, pressed to Bucky's chest. It's instinct. They've known each scents for almost twenty years, and yet the huddled together to reaffirm one another's smell, their scent. It's nature.

It's the best.


End file.
